Within Temptation
by ShadowDanseur
Summary: Everyone around Clark is falling victim to a sickness he knows nothing about, and can't cure. He's left alone to figure out how to save those he loves from an enemy more dangerous than any other: themselves. Chlark kinda .
1. Uneasy

**_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, although that would be nice. Chlark all the way! Lol. _**

**_Author's Note: This is just an idea I've been kicking around for a few days, thought I'd jot it down and see where it goes. It's first person, Chloe's POV, which is kinda hard for me cause I keep reverting back to third person. :) Anyway, let me know what you think. Set some time around season six; no spoilers. _**

**_Chapter 1:_**

Sometimes, the Daily Planet is just too damn busy. All this damn commotion is counter productive, I swear. I've been staring at my blank computer screen for the past fifteen minutes, and the words that usually come to me so naturally are nowhere to be found. I hate days like this. I'm at such a loss. Even worse, I feel completely useless. I know I should be writing my next article, but I'm just not interested at the moment. Lethargic is the word I'm looking for, I think.

I'm startled by the sound of my phone ringing, and when I glance down at it I'm only half surprised to see that it's Clark.

"What's up?" I say cheerily into the phone

"What, no hello?" You ask

I laugh into the phone. It's good to hear your voice again.

"Hi, Clark," I amend, "What's up?"

"Actually, I was kinda wondering when you would be back."

"I'm not done here for a few more hours," I reply, "Why?"

"Well, I could use your help with something."

"Clark, is something wrong?" I question, suddenly concerned

"I'd rather talk to you about it in person," came your reply

"I'll leave now, but I won't be there for a few …."

My hair whipped across my face, and I knew without looking that you were there. I know I've gotten used to it for the most part, but sometimes it still unnerves me the way you can just show up like that. One of these days you're gonna show up at an inopportune time, and it's gonna be really awkward. I don't wanna think about that now.

"…hours," I finish uselessly, closing my phone

"That's a little longer than I wanna wait. Listen, Chloe, this is gonna sound weird."

"Clark, we live in Smallville. Nothing sounds weird anymore," I shoot back

"Yeah well, this might. There's something weird going on. People are falling asleep, and they're not waking up."

I just stare at you for a second, what I know to be a questioning look on my face. They're not waking up? Clark, isn't that the way parents explain death to their young children? I think I'm missing out on something, you must be forgetting some small detail.

"Not waking up?" I repeat, "Like, they're dying?"

"Not exactly."

"Okay, Clark, I'm a little off today. Care to bring it home for me?"

"Well, they're falling asleep, but they're not dying. They're dreaming."

"Okay, who the hell are you and what did you do with Clark?" I ask a little too sharply, my mind running over all the Clark impersonators I've had to deal with over the years

"No, it's me, Chloe. Look, this is just as confusing for me as it is for you. I'm trying my best to explain. Just stay with me for a few minutes. The other day I came home and found my mom asleep on our couch. Hours went by and she never woke up. I panicked, of course, and took her to the hospital. The doctor told me that she's not actually sleeping, she's unconscious. They're tests revealed that she's dreaming; no one seems to have an explanation for why she's not waking up."

I mull over this for a minute, trying to make sense of it. I was going to ask if maybe she hit her head, but she was on the couch. What could she have hit her head on? Maybe she just stumbled back to the couch and passed out?

"Did the doctor say there was any type of injury?" I question, feeling the gears in my mind starting to turn

"He said she was fine. No sign of head trauma, no injuries, nothing to give us any clue to her condition. Well, right before I called you I was at the hospital, and they brought in Lois."

"Lois? Is she okay?" I demand

"I dunno," you answer, shaking your head, "She seems to be suffering from the same condition. I tried to wait as long as I could before calling you, tried to make sense of it on my own, but none of the pieces fit together."

"I'm glad you called me. First things first, let me see if there have been any other accounts of this happening."

I turn back to my computer and pull up my internal search engine. I search the Planet's database for any mention of this same phenomena, but it comes back with nothing. Okay, so either this is the first time it's happened, or no one has caught on yet. If what you're saying is true, Clark, then it's possible that if there were any other cases like this the family would just think it was a coma. Who else but you and I would suspect foul play? We need to get lives, Clark, we're starting to look like paranoid freaks.

I type a quick search into Google; it brings up a few results, but nothing that looks really promising. Most cases don't report any brain activity from the person in question, so it doesn't do us any good anyway.

"Nothing. Look, why don't we go back to Smallville? Maybe we can dig up something at ground zero."

"Sounds good," You agree

I'm reaching for my purse and I barely have a handle on it when you're plucking me right off my feet and disappearing in a blur.

As soon as you come to a stop you set me down again, my hair ruffled and my legs a little weak from the burst of speed. I glare up at you, to which you answer with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," You explain, "But I'm really worried about them, and driving just takes too long."

I sigh. I guess you're right, but still. I wish you would have given me some warning or something. It's really unnerving to be swept off your feet, literally, and whisked across town in the span of just a few heartbeats.

I glance around. You've brought us to the farm, I'm guessing to look around for some clue that might give us a lead.

"You said she was on the couch?" I recall

"Yeah."

"Well, let's go in and look around. Maybe we can find something."


	2. The Nurse

**_Author's Note: Ok everyone, stick with me. I know the beginning is starting out pretty slow, but it's gonna pick up soon, I swear. Just trying to set some ground work so I can get on into the good stuff. :) As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated._**

**_Chapter 2:_**

I think I've searched your house inside and out more than once in the last hour, and we haven't found anything. No sign of foul play, no indication that there was anything strange about the incident. That sounds contradictory to what we know, but it's true.

"Did you see your mom earlier that day?" I query

"Yeah, just a few hours before it happened," You answer

"How was she?"

"She seemed fine. Said she missed my dad a lot today, but other than that she was fine."

"Well, I'm at a loss, Clark. I didn't find anything. And I have to say, my brain isn't really functioning right now. I'm worried about your mom, and Lois. We'll keep looking, of course, but I am going to go see them before I do anything else."

You look at me with those beautiful blue eyes, silently weighing what I've just said. I can see the distress on your face plain as day, and it seems to be transferring to me as well. I'm a reporter - I don't like to be left in the dark. I like knowing, and it scares me when I don't. Then you nod, apparently agreeing with my idea to go to the hospital.

"How are we going to get there?" I ask, arching an eyebrow, "I'd say we could take my car, but it's not here."

I can't resist teasing you just a little, and I see a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

"I'll drive," You say then, "Just let me get the keys."

I head out to the truck, parked haphazardly in the driveway. You must have been in a hurry, Clark; even though there is no parking spot, this is one of the worst parking jobs I think I've ever seen.

I'm just opening the door as you get to your side, and we're in the vehicle and our way with a grim sense of determination. We don't need to talk, comfortable in our familiar silence, and I'm running ideas through my mind as we drive. My first thought, of course, is that it has to have something to do with the meteor rocks. Everything seems like it traces back to the rocks. But how is it getting to people? And what exactly is it doing to them? I need to find a way to steal Lois' chart when I get to the hospital. I want to read the doctor's evaluation of her condition.

We pull up at the hospital. I hate this place; I think I've spent more time here than I have anywhere else. Maybe not quite, but it feels that way. I can probably walk the halls blindfolded and still get where I'm going.

I follow you in, and you lead me down a series of hallways. They're not in the ER anymore, you're saying, because the doctors are at a loss for what to do. That and, technically, they aren't in any life threatening danger. You turn left and come to stop in a rather large room. I wonder if you specifically asked for them to be in the same room or if it happened by sheer luck.

They both seem to be at peace. I may be imagining it, but it actually looks like there's some semblance of a smile on Martha's face. Lois looks peaceful as well, perhaps more peaceful than I've ever seen her.

Glancing around to make sure there aren't any doctors nearby, I sneak over to where the charts are kept at the end of the bed and pull Lois' out first. I read and reread the evaluation several times, but it doesn't seem to have any useful or revealing information. The patient is alive, unconscious for some reason but shows normal, if not heightened brain activity.

"Clark," I say softly, ushering you over, "Grab your mom's file and come over here."

You only look a little perturbed at the thought of reading private information, and if my mind weren't on a hundred other things I would remind you that you have every right to read it since you are family.

"Take a look at the bottom of the page, where it says additional comments. Are there any?" I instruct

"Yeah. It says that about an hour ago, the nurse was in to take vitals and my mom spoke."

"What did she say?" I prod

"I don't know. The nurse reported not being able to hear it because she whispered so softly, but she's certain it was a word."

"It says the same thing on Lois' chart," I say, glancing away from the paper and up at you, "But hers was just after they brought her in."

"Same nurse?" You ask

"A woman by the name of Pate. Angie Pate. Yours?"

"Same," You answer, and return the chart to its rightful place, "You think she might know more?"

"I'm not sure, Clark. It could be that she does, or it could just be that she's the nurse doing the rounds. If that's the case, then of course she'd be the one to hear it, they do their rounds every few hours I think."

"Don't you think we should try and track her down, ask her some questions at least?" You suggest, antsy

"Of course. But if it's all the same to you, Clark, I'd like to sit with them for awhile. Think you can handle this impromptu little interview on your own?"

"Sure. I'll call as soon as I have some answers."

I nod and glance around for a chair to pull up next to the beds. I can hear you shuffling away, and as an afterthought call you back.

"Clark."

You turn to look at me, question marks in your eyes.

"Be careful. Please."

You give me that debonair little smile and a slight nod.

"I will."


	3. Waiting

**_Chapter 3:_**

I've been sitting here, in this wonderfully uncomfortable arm chair, for the last hour or so. I guess it's too much to ask for, but I've been waiting for a breakthrough. I keep hoping that you'll repeat that word you said earlier. I need a lead, something to go on. I'm worried about you. Well, you and Martha of course. I can't for the life of me figure out what's going on with you two. It just doesn't make any sense.

The hospital has quieted down a lot. Every so often I glance out the door as someone passes by; it's mostly doctors and nurses, and I keep expecting them to come in and tell me that visiting hours are over. I have no idea how long Clark has been gone. I wonder idly if he's had any luck trying to find that Angie Pate. I probably should have gone with him, although I don't know that I would have been much help. Sometimes I think I'm more of a hindrance than a help.

I stand to stretch. My legs are feeling cramped so I decide to walk over to Martha's bedside for a bit. She looks happy, so I guess she must be having a good dream. I bet Jonathan is in her dream; I'm glad she can be with him again, even just for a bit.

A sudden urge to talk overcomes me, then, and I glance around to make sure no one is within hearing distance. Of course, I'll just have to hope Clark doesn't come back any time soon, cause he'll hear me no matter how quiet I am.

"Hi, Mrs. Kent," I whisper, feeling ridiculous, "I hope you don't mind, but I have some stuff I really need to get off my chest, and they say that it's good to talk to unconscious people."

I take a deep breath and try to think of what to talk about first. I guess I couldn't really go wrong talking about the boy we both have in common.

"I don't know if I've ever told you, Mrs. Kent, but you're son is one amazing young man. Perhaps even too amazing for his own good. He's saved so many people at the expense of himself. I know he's destined for great things, and I'm not just saying that because I love him. Have I ever told you that, Mrs. Kent, that I'm in love with Clark? Well, I am. It's not hard to love him; well, on second thought, it is for me. But only because I know he's in love with Lana, and I've never had a chance."

Someone knocks on the door then, startling me and causing me to jump. There's a young woman standing in the doorway, a nurse.

"I'm sorry, I heard you talking and tried not to surprise you," She says, "I'm just here to check their vitals."

"Of course," I reply, trying not to blush

She steps in the room and goes about reading the various machines hooked up to both of you. I hope she didn't hear me spilling my guts, that would be embarrassing.

"Is she your mom?" The burse asks, motioning to Martha

"Oh, no," I correct her, "She's my friend's mother. Lois is my cousin."

I gesture over to Lois and the lady nods her head. She looks to be about my age, maybe a little older. I bite back the urge to ask her what she is doing, although I'm curious. I guess the reporter urge runs in my blood.

"How are they doing?" I question

"The same. There hasn't been any change in their condition. Vitals are good."

"Are they still … dreaming?"

"For lack of a better word, yes," The nurse answers, smiling, "I know it sounds weird, but that really is the best way to explain it."

I nod and turn away, walking to the other end of the room. My back aches between my shoulder blades, but the tingling sensation has left my legs. I really hate hospitals, but I'm not ready to leave just yet. I haven't given up hope that some clue will be revealed to me somehow. I really hope Clark has had better luck than I have.

"The young man who's been here the last few days, is that her son?" The other woman asks

"Clark? Tall, dark and handsome?"

"That's the one," And she smiles

"Yeah, that's her son."

"Is she his girlfriend?" She continues, motioning to Lois

"No," I reply, "They're just friends."

"Well, I hope for the best for them both," She says, "I'm done for now. I should probably ask you to leave, since visiting hours are over, but I don't mind if you stay."

"Thank you."

She turns to go and I go back to my chair at Lois' bedside. I sigh and rub my temples; I've already forgotten about the nurse, so I don't notice when she stops in the doorway and looks back at me with an indescribable smile.

"You can wake up any time now, Lois," I say into the dead air

Against my will, a yawn escapes. It must be pretty late, and I am exhausted. It's been a crappy day. I really want to wait for Clark to get back so I can ask him what he's found out, if anything. I just can't seem to help it though, and I lay my head down by Lois' hand and close my eyes. A nap would be wonderful, and I'm sure Clark will wake me up when he gets back. He really should hurry though, he's making me anxious.


End file.
